


Isn't She Lovely?

by Breathetheuniverse



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Babies Everywhere, Baker Harry, Be kind please, Eventual Smut, Falling In Love, Friends to Lovers, Kissing, M/M, My First Work in This Fandom, Niall is Louis' assistent, Not Beta Read, Pregnant Gemma, Romance, Single Parent Harry Styles, Unhappy Harry, happy louis, larry stylinson - Freeform, obviously, pediatrician Louis
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-02
Updated: 2018-08-12
Packaged: 2019-06-20 19:54:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15541785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Breathetheuniverse/pseuds/Breathetheuniverse
Summary: Harry Styles is a simple boy who dreams big and seeks happiness. His life is boring, until an unexpected pregnancy changes everything.Louis Tomlinson is the best and youngest pediatrician in Cambridge and he's going to help Harry to do the hardest job in the world: parenting.





	1. "I'm pregnant."

**Author's Note:**

> Hiii there! I'm Breathetheuniverse, welcome to my first English work. Yes, that's right, English isn't my first language, so I apologise now for any mistakes.  
> I'm looking for a beta, so if someone has suggestions or wants to be my beta, please raise you hand!!!  
> I really, really hope you'll like this story.
> 
> Love,  
> Breathetheuniverse.

The lights in Times Square were bright, almost blinding, hypnotic and colourful: he had never seen anything more beautiful, and not because he lived in a small village called Great Shelford in England, but because there wasn't a city more beautiful than New York, not for him. He had always dreamed of the Big Apple, living there had been the goal of his life, an unattainable and distant fantasy. Yet, he was there, right in the heart of New York and it was one of the strongest and most incredible emotion he had ever experienced. It was pure happiness.  
With a big smile on his face, he pushed his long, curly, brown hair from his face and he started to walk slowly, his head held high as if he belonged in that place for 26 years. As if he were no less New Yorker than the thousands of people who walked around Times Square everyday.  
He didn't know to go, he just wanted to enjoy the view. He walked back and forth, memorizing all the shops by heart. McDonald's, Express, Gift Luggage, Disney, Forever 21, Polo. He collided with two people while walking and laughed in joy; he gave some coins to a street artist, who bowed his head in gratitude; he looked at everyone's clothing from the corner of his eye, noting the differences in each one. It was fun, it was the heart of his world.  
After a while, he decided to stop at a Starbucks and enjoy the pleasant warmth of the place, even if it wasn't so cold. And of course he smell of coffee. Even if he was English, he didn't drink tea and he liked instead that dark and slightly bitter drink. For a few years, it was the only thing that woke him up in the morning and kept him awake during the day. Luckily for him, he worked in a bakery, which meant free coffee for most of the day. That was a life that no longer belonged to him though.  
As expected, the heat and the smell of coffee hit him in the face when the door was opened from the inside. He took a step forward, smiling at the vaguely familiar boy who held the door open for him.  
"Thanks," he said politely.  
"Of course," the stranger replied, returning the smile. "I could never close the door in front of a beautiful face."  
He blushed, not expecting the compliment, or that the boy in question had an English accent. He was also very, very handsome: he was a few inches shorter than him, his hair was caramel-colored with a fringe. His thin body was covered by an Adidas t-shirt, blue sweatpants and a pair of black Vans at his feet. But the most beautiful part was his eyes: blue, bright and amused with small wrinkles at the corners, caused by the disarming smile that was laying on his thin lips.  
"Um," he stammered, not knowing what to say and noticing that he had been staring at the stranger for far too long.  
When the other boy laughed, a strange sensation made its way into his heart and his head. It was a warm feeling that had nothing to do with air conditioning: it spread welcome and familiar, but at the same time he didn't know exactly what it was. It was like it wasn't the first time that he met that man, like he already knew him. But he didn't.  
"Are you here alone? Would you like some company? " the boy with beautiful blue eyes asked.  
He nodded: he was in New York, why avoid the simple company of someone so cute? He asked the barista a tall coffee and the other man, who still had to say his name, ordered tea. They sat down at table away from the entrance and the crowd.  
When the stranger looked intently into his eyes, with a smile that turned into something more amused, he realized what that feeling from earlier was.  
He was in love with a person he had never seen before and whose name he did not even know. Suddenly, he felt his cheeks heat up.  
"I'm happy that I've finally found you."  
He raised his eyebrows, surprised by those words, and his heart was beating wildly, uncontrollably, into his chest.  
"What?"  
The stranger only shook his head. "I meant I'm happy to be here with you," he murmured shyly. At that, he stretched out a hand towards his and took it as if it was something he did everyday.  
He looked at the man in front of him with surprised eyes, but he didn't pull back: instead, he intertwined their fingers. It was normal, his mind told him. He opened his mouth to share the feeling, to say that he was happy to be there too, when his legs shook and his body jerked.  
…  
"Harry!"  
Hearing his name being called right into his ear, Harry opened his eyes, not even remembering that he had closed them, and straightened up in the chair where he was sitting, despite the protests of his back. Not for the first time, he had fallen asleep bent over the table during his lunch break and his body wasn't happy about that.  
"Finally, you are awake! I've been calling you for ages," the same voice said.  
It belong to Ashley, his colleague, who stood beside him with her long, blond hair gathered in a braid and her five-months-old pregnant belly hidden under her apron.  
"Here's your coffee."  
The boy moved his long hair from his face and thanked his colleague (and best friend): apparently, after eating his salad, he had fallen asleep on the table, and judging from the time on the clock, the nap took all of his lunch break.  
"Good dreams?" Ashley asked.  
"I don't think so," said the boy, hiding a yawn behind his hand. "I don't remember."  
_I'm an idiot_ , he thought, while drinking his coffee: he couldn't fall asleep at work. He didn't sleep much at night, he mostly stayed awake until very late, so maybe it was time to start taking some pills or get a night job. Harry shook his head. No, he liked where he worked.  
The owner of the Butterfly Bakery was a cheerful old lady called Barbara, who treated him like a grandson and she was as sweet as the cakes they baked every morning. If she wasn't, Harry wouldn't have a job, because not many bosses would allow an employee to fall asleep at work and let them get away with it.  
Harry sneaked into the back of the bakery when his shift started again and Barbara was already there with a worried look on her face and her hands on her hips.  
"Still having trouble sleeping?" she asked him.  
The boy smiled kindly at her as he wrapped his hair in a bun with a hair tie. "No, I'm just a bit tired. I was out with friends last night. "  
The woman nodded, but her face gave away the fact that she didn't believe him. She knew him too well. "Do you want to go home?"  
"No, I've had my coffee, so I'm ready now," Harry said, and he made a gesture with his arm to prove that he was full of energy and ready to continue his shift for three hours more.  
"Alright, honey," Barbara agreed. "Then come here, help me."  
Harry spent the next two hours cooking scones, cupcakes and cookies, and an hour at the counter, making tea or coffee and serving sweets to children who had just got out of school. The coming and going of people brought him joy and every trace of the brief dream, of the unknown boy, was long forgotten and stored in a remote part of his brain.  
What he remembered was only a feeling, which came back to him at the end of his shift, when he heard Ashley speak in a hushed voice. She was on the phone with her husband and she was reassuring him, telling him that she wasn't tired and that their child was happy, because he kept moving and kicking.  
It hadn't been about the topic of their conversation (which made him smile fondly), but the loving, impossibly sweet and delicate tone of Ashley's voice that triggered back the feeling. Even a stranger could tell that she was in love with her husband and their unborn baby, and Harry remembered that he had felt something similar in his dream. The memory had his heart beating wildly for no reason and there were butterfly in his stomach. He hated feeling like that, because he knew now that the emotions wouldn't leave him for the rest of the day. He hated dreaming of being in love, because it wasn't something that he needed, or want for that matter, but his subconscious didn't agree with him, because lately those kind of dreams happened often. What frustrated him the most was that he could never remember the person that featured his dreams, no matter how much he tried, his mind blocked him.  
Harry sighed when he arrived home – a two-bedrooms apartment, with one bathroom and one large space for both the kitchen and the living room. It wasn't too big, because he couldn't afford much more, but it was home. The smell of cinnamon was strong, thanks to the candles he had left lit in the morning, when he was too much in a hurry to open the windows and let the house breath with fresh air. Harry sank onto the old couch that his mother reluctantly gave him, and he fell asleep before he could turn the radio on for some company.  
..  
"Have you eaten, honey?" Anne, his mother, asked Harry on the phone a few hours later.  
"Not yet," Harry muttered, trying to hide the fact that he had woken up only because his phone didn't stop ringing.  
He sat down on the sofa and noticed that it was already dark outside, which meant that he slept longer than intended. Thank God he had some leftovers from yesterday's dinner, because he didn't feel like cooking.  
“Harry, is there something I can do? I can come there and cook you something.”  
Her mother's voice had the same worried tone that Barbara used earlier that afternoon, but the suggestion mortified Harry to the point that he couldn't hold back an irritated sigh.  
“No, Mom.” _I don't need your help_ , he thought. “I'm fine.”  
Anne, and her husband and Harry's stepfather Robin, lived in a small village not far from Harry, called Little Shelford. The closeness had been suffocating at the beginning, because after Harry moved out, his mother came by to his house too often. When the boy had the courage to finally ask her to please let him live, their relationship changed for the worst. Anne stopped showing up without first asking for permission, when Harry visited her and Robin, she didn't have any leftovers for him to bring home. Her phone calls became less and less frequent and she was the first one to call only when more than ten days passed since the last time she heard anything from her son. It was messed up, but Harry needed his space and he never had a wonderful relationship with her mother to begin with.  
"Alright," Anne agreed, but she sounded hesitant. "Give us a call sometimes, please?"  
Harry grimaced guiltily. "Yeah, sorry."  
"Good night, Harry."  
"Night, Mom." Harry bit his lip and hesitated before adding, "Thank you for calling."  
He knew that his mother was hoping for something like an "I love you" or “Miss you”, like any other normal conversation between mother and son, but Harry wasn't the kind of person who talked about his day or meaningless stuff. He wasn't the perfect son, he never was, and didn't claim to be: his older sister Gemma was the pride of the family, while Harry was the rebel one who "didn't do enough". He didn't like it, but he had learnt to accept it.  
The boy heated up the pizza from the day before in the oven and he ate it in front of the television, watching a program with rich people who were looking for a house to buy. It wasn't what he usually watched, but the couple starring in that episode were looking for a flat in New York and Harry couldn't change the channel. He was jealous of people who had 1 million dollars to spend on a house that overlooked the New York skyline.  
Yes, Harry was one of those people who firmly claimed that money makes you happy and he had no problem admitting it. What was wrong with it? He lived in a small village not too far away from Cambridge, he was currently sitting on a sofa that three year ago was about to be thrown away, eating pizza from the night before, with a beat up car parked outside and a job that covered bills and rent. The only good thing was that he was good at saving up money, so he could one day go to New York.  
_This is what happens when you refuse to go to college, fucker_ , a little voice inside his brain whispered.  
_But at least I have a job_ , he shot back.  
Before Harry could declare himself crazy, his phone rang again. His face lit up when he saw who was calling.  
"Margot!" Harry exclaimed as he answered. "My one, true love!"  
"Hi Harry," the woman chuckled. "How are you?"  
"I'm good," he said. "And you? How's Mia?"  
Margot was a family friend and she had a three-year-old little daughter with her husband John: a beautiful girl, with blonde hair and brown eyes. Harry had fallen in love with Mia at first sight, as he usually did with most of the children he met. Margot was older than Harry and the two had met through Gemma, because the two women went to the same university and then worked together in a primary school in Cambridge.  
When Margot called him the first time asked him to take care of her daughter for a few hours, Harry had been more than happy to accept. From that, turning to him when they needed a babysitter became a regular thing, as long as Margot warned Harry a week in advance. So every time that Margot called, even if it wasn't as often as Harry would've liked, he already what it was about.  
After replying that they were all fine and telling a funny stuff about Mia, Margot asked Harry if he was free for two days the following week.  
"Sorry for the short notice," she added with a sigh. “At school there were some problems with the dates of the meetings, I'm sorry."  
"Don't worry," Harry said. "I haven't seen little Mia for long a time, so I don't want to miss the chance to see how much she grew up."  
"Oh thank you so much, Harry! You are an angel!"  
Margot and Harry decided on the dates and the time when Harry had to pick Mia up from kindergarten and then hung up. He was excited: he got the opportunity to stay with Mia and go to Cambridge, which didn't happen often even though it was only half an hour away by car.  
Harry finished his dinner, turned off the television, took a shower and finally let himself go to sleep easily, with a little smile on his face.  
...  
Tuesday morning, Harry woke up in a very good mood and the excitement run through his body: he worked at the bakery from the opening hours to the lunch break, when it was time to go to Cambridge and pick Mia up.  
Seeing her again was exciting: she was such a beautiful child, full of energy and polite, she grew up so much and so fast in just a few months, it was hard to believe. Harry was sure she didn't recognize him at first, but Margot must have said something to her, because the little girl didn't make a fuss when she saw him instead of her parents.  
When the teacher saw Harry, she asked for his ID to prove that he really was Harry Styles, and the boy gave it to her.  
"Mrs. Martin left you the car seat," the woman said politely. Do you need a hand?"  
"No, I got this, thank you," Harry replied, taking the car set in one hand after having wrapped Mia in her coat, beanie and scarf.  
The short journey from kindergarten to Margot and John's home was quiet: Mia was about to fall asleep and the most reasonable thing to do would've been to put her in bed and let her sleep, but Harry hadn't seen her in so long that he couldn't resist cuddling her.  
It wasn't long before Margot called Harry.  
"Hi Harry. Are you all right? "the woman asked, slightly anxious.  
"Hey, Margot. Yes, everything's fine. We're on the couch," the boy said softly. "Both of us are about to fall asleep."  
Margot disguised the relief with a laugh. "Okay, thank you."  
"Anytime. You know I love looking after this princess."  
Harry looked at the baby girl wearing a white velvet dress with her eyes closed and her pink cheeks. He mentally noted to check if she was too warm.  
"Oh, and if anything happens- I hope not, you know," Margot said, "but if Mia is sick, I left you pediatrician's contact. It's on the shelf in the living room."  
Harry placed Mia in his arms, holding the phone between his shoulder and ear, and stood up.  
"Found it," he said, picking up the piece of paper. **Louis Tomlinson, pediatrician,** it said, followed by two phone numbers and an address.  
"Don't hesitate to call him, even before me or John. He's very good at his job and I trust him completely. He'll tell you what to do. "  
"Noted. Now relax, okay?" Harry joked.  
Margot laughed. "I'm relaxed, I trust you. It's just... it's been a long time since I left my daughter with someone. "  
Harry tried to imagine what it meant for a parent to let another person take care of their child: he wished he knew.  
Margot excused herself and said she had to go, so they said goodbye. Harry checked the Mia's temperature and luckily she didn't have a fever. He decided to change her clothes into something lighter: he pick a pair of sweatpants and a long sleeved shirt with a flamingo on the front.  
“Mia, shall we bake some cookies?” Harry asked the girl, who was now more awake.  
“Yes!! Cookies!!” she exclaimed happily.  
And cookies it was. It was a bit of a mess, but you can't really expect much from a 3 year old girl and a 26 year old man who couldn't say no to children.  
When Mia's dad John came home several hours later, he found his daughter and Harry in the kitchen, sitting at the table while Mia was coloring and Harry was helping her, a plate full of cookies next to them.  
"Hello," the man greeted them with a smile.  
"Hi John," Harry said, standing up to shake his hand.  
"Daddy!!" Mia shouted, who tripped over herself in a hurry to get to her father.  
At the same time, Harry and John took a step forward to help her and prevent her from falling.  
"Hello, sweetheart. Did you have fun today?" her Dad asked her.  
“Yes, we cooked cookies, Daddy! And I got stickers!!”  
Harry laughed. “Yeah, I hope you don't mind, I used your stuff to bake.”  
“I don't mind at all,” John said, taking a cookie for himself. “How are you, Harry?”  
"Good. Everything's good."  
Then Mia started talking about her day, showing her Dad her drawings, so Harry took the chance to say that he had to go back home.  
"Do you want to stay for dinner?" John asked.  
"No, thank you," the boy declined. "Say hello to Margot for me. Bye bye, lovely." Harry kissed Mia's cheek. "See you tomorrow!"  
"Bye bye, Harry!" the little girl exclaimed, waving her hand.  
When Harry went back to his home, a serene smile was still there on his lips. It didn't happen often, but he was happy to have the next day off and he was going to spend it in Cambridge, before he had to pick Mia up again. So, he had his own reasons for smiling and thinking that his life wasn't a disaster.  
...  
The next afternoon, Harry was back with Mia, but the little girl wasn't in the mood for playing and she didn't want to sleep, so the television was turned on and Peppa Pig was playing.  
"Ehi, lovely. Do you want something to eat?" Harry tried to get her to talk or at least to do something.  
The little girl looked at Harry disinterested, before turning her attention back on the screen. Harry thought that he should talk to Margot or John about her strange behaviour, because it wasn't like her to be so quiet. Maybe she got into a fight at kindergarten, but the teaching didn't mention anything to Harry.  
Margot was the first to come back home – and she wasn't alone.  
"What are you doing here?" Harry asked, surprised, as soon as he saw his sister with Margot.  
"I invited her," Margot explained, before saying hello to her daughter.  
Harry didn't have time to tell her what he wanted, because Gemma had a very sad look on her face when she spoke.  
"Maggie said you were here. I wanted to talk to you about something. Can I go back home with you?"  
The request took Harry off guard: she never asked to stay at his place.  
"Please," Gemma murmured, noticing her brother's hesitation. "It's important."  
"Okay."  
His sister's relief confused him even more, but Harry let it go for the time being and turned to Margot.  
"Um, Margot? Today Mia was a bit strange," he told her worriedly. "She didn't want to do anything and I tried to get her to cook something- I know she usually likes it." She nodded, frowning as she held her daughter on her lap. "She screamed for a good five minutes. I didn't know what to do, but I swear I tried everything.”  
"Thanks for telling me, Harry. You're so sweet, really," Margot smiled at him.  
"Let me know if- um. When you understand what she has, okay?"  
“Of course,” she said and then handed him a sealed envelope.  
There was no need to say what it was, Harry knew it was his payment for those two days. He thanked Margot and kissed her on both her cheeks, then she and Gemma said goodbye to each other.  
The trip to Harry's house was quiet, except for the music that played on the radio. The Styles siblings had a weird relationship: they loved each other and got along just fine, but for some reason they didn't share much together. They didn't talk about feelings with each other, they didn't have that complicity typical of most of brothers and sisters, especially if there was only a four year gap between them.  
Their relationship had changed even more when Nate had become part of Gemma's life, and later of the Styles family. Nate had been Gemma's boyfriend since she was 18 and the two had been living together for three years; the last missing step was marriage, and the thought alone made Harry cringe. There was something about Nate that didn't convince him, he disliked the guy.  
When they got home, Harry suggested ordering something to eat. "I don't want to cook," he said, flipping through the many take out menus he had collected.  
"Okay, but I'm paying."  
Gemma's words made Harry stop what he was doing. Without turning to his sister, he replied a dry and simple, "No".  
Gemma insisted. "I want to. You didn't expect me for dinner. Let me pay at least my part. "  
"Only your part then," Harry murmured. "Is Chinese okay?" He asked to change the subject, but he had no such luck.  
"Yup. How are you, little brother?"  
"Good," Harry dismissed. "What do you want to eat?" He tried again, without looking up from the menu. It usually worked.  
"Whatever you order is fine with me, too. But no fish, thanks," Gemma said. She seemed irritated by her brother. "I need to know how you are."  
" _Need_?" Harry repeated skeptically as he looked at his sister. She nodded, without adding anything else. "I'm fine, but if you don't want to believe me, then I don't know what to tell you."  
The boy called the restaurant and ordered their food, while Gemma went to the bathroom, and when she came back, she stayed quiet. It was strange to see her like that: she was more friendly than her brother, she always had something to say or a joke ready to make people laugh. That night, she looked off and Harry was starting to get worried, so he decided to go straight to the point.  
"So, what did you want to talk about?" He asked when they were face to face, sitting opposite to each other on the small table in the kitchen. "Are _you_ okay?"  
In that moment several things happened at once: Gemma stiffened, looked away from Harry and bit her lip, then her eyes went wide as if she had just remembered something, and she burst into tears, whispering words like "I'm sorry", "I didn't want it to happen", and "I'm a bad person".  
The first thought that came to Harry's mind was that his sister had killed someone or that something really serious had happened, no matter how unlikely it was. Her face expressed the guilt of every single person in the world and her crying was so strong that Harry himself was about to panic.  
He sat next to Gemma and hugged her, whispering that whatever it was worrying her would be fine. Gemma didn't seem to believe him, because she kept shaking her head.  
The doorbell rang. Cursing the bad timing of Chinese people, Harry went to open the door and paid the deliver guy with some of the money Margot had given him that night. He put the food on the table and then took a bottle of wine from the fridge and opened it, hoping he could help his sister relax.  
"Oh. No, thank you," Gemma refused as Harry handed her a glass, wiping her face with her shirt sleeves.  
"Why? You don't have to drive, you can take a taxi or sleep here if you want."  
Gemma smiled gratefully, her eyes red and sad. "I can't drink, H."  
"You can't?"  
"No."  
Brother and sister ate in silence for a couple of minutes, Harry waiting for Gemma to speak, and Gemma was busy finding the right words. Finally, she looked straight in her brother's eyes.  
"I'm pregnant," she confessed, turning Harry's world upside down with those two simple words.


	2. "Is that the right decision?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aloha!  
> Here's a new chapter!   
> Remember, English is not my first language, so if there're mistakes I apologise and if someone wants to be my beta reader, then you are more than welcome to send me a message! :)  
> Enjoy!!  
> Love,  
> Breathetheuniverse

****"I'm pregnant."

"Oh."  
Harry sighed in relief at those words: his sister hadn't killed anyone, nothing serious had happened. Quite the contrary, that was fantastic news. It was, right? So why Gemma looked so sad, but most importantly why did she apologize? The confusion must have been obvious on Harry's face because Gemma lifted a hand with a tired and resigned look.

"Can we eat first and talk later?" she begged.

Harry nodded, not wanting to upset her sister even more, and gave her a glass of water: now he understood why Gemma had refused wine, but he had every intention of drinking. It wasn't going to be an easy chat, that was for sure.

"Can you- Is it safe for you and the small creature to eat raw fish?" he asked suddenly.  
Gemma shrugged. "I think so."

Harry prayed that the indifference was just a way for his sister to react to the news, so he ignored his irritation and continued to eat. He was dying to ask questions, but he let her sister take her time.

"I found out only a week ago," Gemma began talking, breaking the heavy silence. "I'm two months pregnant."  
The way she said those words it was like she didn't want to admit it.

"Why aren't you happy?" Harry asked, going straight to the point.

His bluntness made her sister laugh. "Is that your first question? Not like, have you told Mom? Or Nate?"  
"Gemma, you showed up out of nowhere and half an hour ago you started crying like a mad person. I don't think you came here just to tell me I'm going to be an uncle," Harry said, trying to sound reasonable. "And who knows isn't very important now, is it?"

Something on Gemma's face shifted, but it was gone too quickly for Harry to understand what it was, what was going on in her head.

"No, you're right. But you could be more sensible about it," Gemma replied, avoiding eye contact with her brother.

Harry raised his hands in surrender and motioned for her to go on.

"Nate knows, in case you were wondering." No, he wasn't, but Harry didn't say anything out loud. "And we've talked about it for a while and we agreed on the only possible solution."

The boy raised his eyebrows, surprised. Wasn't having the baby the only thing to do? "And what is it?" He asked, fearing the answer.

"We're not ready to be parents," Gemma whispered, looking down at her hands guiltily.

As soon as the words were out, Harry widened his eyes. "Gem, you can't do that! You're so young, why would you- you can't have an abortion! Oh my God, are you insane?!" he shouted. He couldn't even recognize her sister anymore.

Gemma shook her head. "I'm not ready to be a mother, Harry! And I don't even want to be, you know that!"

Harry knew it, sadly: he'd always loved children and he planned on having at least one child in the future, but Gemma was the opposite. She liked other people's children only as long as she didn't have to stay with them for too long. She repeatedly said that she didn't want to become a mother, but that was years ago, when she was much younger, with a job as a substitute and Nate was just her boyfriend. Now things were different: Gemma grew up, she was a teacher, had a good salary and she got engaged. There was nothing to prevent her from having a child, even if it wasn't planned. She was pregnant and she couldn't just back down because she didn't feel like being a mother.

Harry stated those thoughts out loud, trying to reason with his sister, who kept shaking her head. That meant only one thing: she had already decided and nothing would've changed her mind.

"So what do you want from me?" He asked, annoyed by her childish behaviour. "If I can't change your mind, then-"

"I want to give it to you."

Gemma interrupted her brother with a low, insecure whisper and her eyes full of tears. Harry was paralysed, literally. He had stopped breathing and his eyelids didn't dare to move. What had her sister just said? He must have misunderstood.

"You want to give what to me?" he asked, his heart beating wildly.

Gemma didn't waste any time to take advantage of his shock and fill his head with words.  
"You've always wanted a child, didn't you? And I really don't want to have an abortion," the girl explained as if it was that easy. "Nate agrees, he doesn't want to be a father either. You could- you can take care of it, you are much more experienced than we are and you love children. We will give you some money of course because it's very expensive to raise a child on your own, but you would-"  
"Gemma," Harry hissed in a cold voice. He hid his face in his hands and closed his eyes. "Stop."

It was insane: Harry couldn't believe Gemma was suggesting a thing like that. He wasn't an angry person, he didn't lose patient easily, but at that moment he had to force himself to take deep breaths in order to not scream at his sister. It'd be useless.

Gemma wiped away the tears that began to drop on her cheeks when she heard her brother's voice but she stayed quiet. Nothing she wanted to say would help the situation.

"So, let me get this straight. You're pregnant, you don't want to keep the baby and I should raise it for you?" Harry said, looking at his sister with disbelief. He hoped that explaining the situation from his point of view would help her realize how crazy it all sounded.

"Not for me. It would be yours," Gemma mumbled.

"A baby is not an item!" Harry shouted. "It's not something you can take and do what you want with it! It's a human being and it's inside of you!"

"Do you think I don't know that? Do you think I'm happy about this?!" Gemma raised her voice too.

"You should be! Fuck, you have the greatest gift life can give you!"

"But I don't want it!"

The shouting left both breathless, for two different reasons: Gemma didn't mean to say those words, even if they were the truth. Harry, on the other hand, couldn't believe that his sister really thought something so awful. She acted like someone had forced her to get pregnant. Yet they were in the twenty-first century, there were many ways to avoid getting pregnant.

"Sorry," Gemma whispered after a couple of minutes. "I didn't mean it."

Harry sighed, sadness and anger opposing each other in his head: he didn't know what to think. "I think you did. And it's not me you have to apologize to." He knew he was being harsh, so he spoke in a kinder tone. "I just have one question." Gemma encouraged him to talk. "Did you think I would have said yes? That I would have agreed to your insane, stupid and ridiculous idea without hesitation?"  
The girl seemed offended by the question: she snorted and crossed her arms to her chest, showing determination for the first time that evening.

"I'm not stupid, Harry," she replied.

There was a lot that Gemma wanted to add, so many things she wanted to talk about, but neither of them could handle more fighting. Harry's expression was lost and thoughtful: the whole situation was complicated and Gemma was his sister, his family, so obviously, he wanted to help her. What held him back were the too many questions. Was he willing to help his sister to the point of taking care of her child? And as much as he wanted one, was he ready to be a father? Would he be able to do it alone, without anyone else's help? And when the time came, would he tell the creature about who their real parents were? Not to mention all the paperwork for the adoption: that wouldn't be easy.  
"If I say no," Harry said suddenly, he wanted to know what the other alternatives were. "If I decide not to do it, what would happen to the baby?"

Gemma sighed, running a hand through her brown hair. "I'm not brave enough to have an abortion. I could never do it."

"So?" His brother insisted.

"I will give it up to adoption."

Harry nodded and stood up to put the leftover food in the fridge, while Gemma mumbled something about calling Nate and going home.

When the boy heard the sound of the television in the living room, he relaxed a little: he didn't want to talk anymore, he had a massive headache, but he was afraid that Gemma would try to persuade him at all costs. He didn't entirely blame her. Better leave your unborn baby to a family member than leaving them in an institute without knowing how they were doing or for how long they were going to stay there.

Harry wanted to avoid it, but he couldn't accept Gemma's plan only because he didn't like the other option: it wasn't his child. If Gemma wasn't troubled by it, why should he?

No, Harry had to be completely sure of the decision he would take, one that he'd never regret in the future. He had to put the future well-being of the small creature before Gemma or himself.

Harry drank a glass full of wine and he was so deep in thought that the doorbell scared him: he had lost track of time.

"It's Nate," Gemma said. "He came to pick me up."

Harry frowned. "You could have stayed."

Gemma smiled sweetly. "You need space, H. I understand that," she said and hesitated for a moment before hugging him. "I love you. Whatever you'll decide, I'll always love you. You're my brother."

"I love you too, Gem," Harry whispered back and he kissed her on the cheek.

They were like that, they could argue as much as they wanted, disagree on thousands of things, but they were brother and sister before any fight or argument.

"Goodnight."  
"Night, little brother."

Watching her sister drive away with her boyfriend, Harry knew that it was going to be a restless night for both of them. That morning he'd never imagined that his day would end like that and think about that afternoon with Mia seemed like a lifetime ago.

"Oh! Mia!" the boy exclaimed to himself, remembering that he had asked Margot to keep him updated on the baby girl's mood.

Checking the phone, Harry found a message waiting for him.

Mia's fine, nothing serious. She just missed her mom! :) Thanks again for looking after you, Harry. Have a good evening xx

The boy laughed bitterly at the last phrase of the message: by now his evening was more than ruined.  
"She just missed her mom," he whispered to no one, his voice rough with emotion.  
How could he raise a child alone? The creature would never have a mother - or another dad, for that matter. It wasn't fair to them. Harry closed his eyes and forced himself not to think; he had had enough for one day. He took a pill for his headache and brushed his teeth, trying to keep his thoughts at bay. He had to sleep so that he could face everything again in the morning.

…

The following week at work, Harry asked for shifts at the front of the bakery, because he was sure he would've burned everything he cooked. People helped him to avoid certain thoughts and dealing with customers required all of his attention, so his mind wouldn't wander back to the events of the evening spent with his sister.

Of course, there were gaps when no one came in and that was when Harry let himself think. Had Gemma already done an ultrasound? Was she 100% sure she was pregnant? Did she consider giving the baby to Anne, their mother? She was way more experienced than Harry with newborns and she didn't work, so she could easily take care of her grandchild. It seemed so stupid that he didn't ask all of that before.

"Ugh," the boy muttered. "It's a mess."

"What is?" Barbara asked from behind him, scaring him.

"Oh, nothing! I was just talking to myself. "

The woman looked at him doubtfully and Harry tried to avoid her gaze. "Harry, dear. I can see on your face that there's something bothering you. You've been working here for three years and I know you, even though you're very private," she said, putting a hand on his shoulder.

Her sweetness was about to make him cry. It had always been like that between Barbara and her employees: besides Harry, who was too professional and strict to let his boss become one of his friends, they all had the kind of relationship they have with their grandmother with Barbara.

"Why don't you come by for tea tonight? I'm not saying have dinner with us, because you'd refuse." Harry smiled amused, as did Barbara. "We can have a drink and talk. You can also see Jane, it's been a while since you've seen her, right? What do you say?"

The boy was about to decline, make up some excuses that he couldn't make it when the name made him change his mind. Jane was Barbara's wife and sometimes she showed up at the Butterfly to bring more joy with her shrill voice and laughter. The two women had been together since they were teenage girls, but for some reason, they didn't have any children. Harry desperately needed someone to talk to and if Barbara was offering, why shouldn't he accept?

"I'd really like it," Harry muttered, looking at his toes with a small smile. "Thank you."

Barbara clearly wasn't expecting a yes, because her face was of pure surprise. "Perfect!" she exclaimed, clapping her hands.

Harry gave her a smile and approached the counter to serve a customer. He realized that - even though he only agreed to go to Barbara's house for tea - it was like a weight had lifted from his shoulders. At least he knew he could talk to someone who he trusted wouldn't judge him  
He was aware of the fact that the final decision was up to him, but talking to someone who wasn't part of his family and asking for advice was reassuring.

At home, Harry took a shower and watched some television until it was time to go to Barbara and Jane's place - or B&J, as they jokingly called themselves. He walked there, even if it wasn't that close: the cold air of February didn't bother him. As he was walking, he decided to call Gemma: his sister understood that he needed time to think without pressure and didn't call me once. But Harry needed to know some things now.

"Harry? "Gemma answered after a few rings, her tone surprised.

"Hey, Gems. How are you?" the boy asked.

"I'm fine." A moment of hesitation and then- "Have you already decided?”

"No. Obviously not, but I want to know a couple of things."

"Okay, shoot."

Harry stopped in the middle of the sidewalk to watch a cat cross the street. "You said you're two months pregnant. How do you know exactly?"

Gemma on the other side sighed. "My gynaecologist said it's eight weeks."

"Oh."  
"Yeah."  
Harry started walking again. "Are you okay? How's nausea? Are you eating enough?”

His sister laughed. "Oh my God, not you too."

"What?"  
"It's just- Nate's always asking these kinds of question all the time and one person is enough, thank you very much."

It was an attempt at joking to ease the tension between the two siblings, but Harry wasn't joking.

"If he was really worried about your health-" he began but stopped. "Never mind."

"Harry-"  
"No, Gemma."

He didn't want to start arguing with her because of an idiot who was about to become his brother-in-law. He just didn't understand why he pretended to care about the child if he didn't even want it. And then it hit Harry. Nate wasn't worried about the baby, but about the consequences it had on Gemma.  
Harry clenched his hand in a fist and tried not to say anything. "Did you talk to mom?" He asked instead.  
"Not yet," Gemma murmured. "I don't know what to say."

"Why don't you let her take care of the baby?"

"Because she's in her fifties, H," his sister said sighing as if she had all the weight of the world on her shoulders. "When the child will be 20 years old, she'll be 70 or something. And also..." she hesitated, unsure whether to finish the sentence or leave it.

"What? Also what?" Harry urged her. He was almost at Barbara's place.

"It's easier to believe that it's your child than mom's. No one would believe that it's hers, it's impossible. And her role would be of both mother and grandma. I don't want to give such a burden to Robin and mom."

But you'll give it to me, Harry thought, but he let it slide. He had more important questions to ask. "So you don't want to have anything to do with the creature once it's born? You don't want to tell her that you're their mother?"

"No," Gemma answered immediately. "I don't want to confuse the child, be a problem. If you take it, then I'll be their aunt."

Harry sighed and closed his eyes for a brief moment. He wished he could say how crazy it was, but Gemma knew it as well and it was useless to make her feel worse.

"Okay. I have to go now. I'll talk to you soon," he said once he was outside Barbara and Jane's home.  
"Alright. Thanks for calling," her sister whispered. "Bye, H."

The boy stood there for a couple of minutes, his eyes not focusing on anything, he was just thinking. And when thinking became too much, he forced himself to ring the bell on the door. He couldn't leave now that he felt an even stronger desire to tell somebody what was happening.

It was Jane who opened the door. "If it's not Harry Styles himself!" The woman exclaimed, pulling him by the arm and hugging him tightly. "Look how much you grew up!"

Harry couldn't help laughing. "We saw each other a few months ago Jane, not years," he objected amused.  
"Jane, let him in!" Barbara's voice came from somewhere inside the house and in response, her wife rolled her eyes.

"Come in. Babs is making tea. And coffee, of course. "

"Thanks," Harry murmured, following Jane down the hallway and into the living room.

Their home was cosy and very colourful: the walls were green and the furniture, including the sofa, ranged from white to black. It looked like a painter's palette, but somehow it worked and suited the two women perfectly.

"Hi Harry," Barbara said, carrying a tray with mugs. She handed him a steaming cup of coffee and a plate full of biscuits. "Got them from work," she explained with a wink.

"Babs told me you're depressed," Jane said straightforward, bringing the cup of tea to her lips to blow over if as if nothing had happened.

"Jane!" the other woman exclaimed, astonished as Harry by Jane's bluntness.

Harry widened his eyes and his mouth dropped open: did he really give that impression?

"And now that I see you, you seem to have lost weight, actually," Jane continued, ignoring her wife.

Her fixed gaze made Harry feel uncomfortable and lean back against the couch as much as possible.

"Harry, I've never said you are depressed," Barbara interrupted, looking at him. "And I don't think you are either. I've said that I'm worried about you and she had to show off."

The disapproving tone made Jane shut up.

Harry didn't know what to do or say. "Don't worry about it," he tried, staring into his coffee like it was the most interesting thing ever.

Barbara reached out to where Harry was sitting and put a comforting hand on his knee. "If you feel like talking about what's bothering you, then we're here. Otherwise, we can just talk about something else. In fact, I have a new recipe that I wanted to show you. "

Harry nodded and hesitated only for a brief moment before talking. "May I ask you a personal question?" When both women nodded, he went. "Why don't you have any children?"

It was obvious that the question surprised both of them, but Jane responded immediately with a gentle smile. "Because we were busy building our careers. I've been a judge my whole life, she's a pastry chef. "

Barbara shook her head, a cloud of nostalgia on her face. "I wanted them, I've always wanted children," she said. "Between the two of us, I'm the one with the maternal instinct."

Harry nodded, hoping they'd continue talking without him asking to. Luckily for him, they did.

"We talked about it when we were - I don't know, thirty maybe?" Jane said. "But the time was never right."  
"Was it difficult for you?" the boy asked his boss, who thought about it before answering.

"At first, yeah. It's never easy for a couple in a relationship to talk about children, whether they want them or not. We don't know what life has in store for us." Harry almost laughed at that. "But in the end, we decided together."

"And we agreed that a dog was less demanding!" Jane concluded happily.

"Oh, right! Where's he?" Harry asked, looking around as if the dog would appear at any moment.

"He's sleeping upstairs. He's so old he hardly moves."

"I've always wanted to get a pet," the boy admitted in a low voice.

"They give you so much joy," Barbara said. "Our first dog had been with us for 17 years. His name was Willy. "

"Dog or cat?" Jane asked curiously.

"Cat," Harry replied without hesitation. "They're more independent than dogs."

"But less affectionate," Barbara supplied.

Silence came down in the room and Harry could sense that Barbara and Jane were waiting for him to speak, but he was tongue-tied and his voice didn't come out.

After several minutes, Barbara clapped her hands and said, "So! This recipe-" in the exact moment that Harry whispered, "My sister's pregnant."

"Sorry, what?"

"Harry- really?"

The two women spoke at the same time, eyes wide open in surprise, but their faces were happy.

The boy kept his gaze down. "Gemma- my sister. She's having a baby," he repeated, trying to get the next few words out.

It was scary, though. Saying it out loud meant that it was real and Harry wasn't ready. Not yet.

"She doesn't want it though, so she wants to give it to me."

"Oh dear," Barbara whispered, before getting up from the couch and hugged him tightly, while Jane looked at them with an expression of confusion and pity.

"I don't know what to do," Harry admitted.

Once he started talking about it, it seemed like he couldn't stop: he hoped that at least talking would help him feel better.

Harry told them what Gemma had said to him that night a week ago and on the phone earlier, while Barbara kept an arm around his shoulders and Jane made comments here and there.

That was the first time that Harry opened up so much to someone after a long time: he didn't have many friends and the ones he had were also his colleagues. Ashley was the only person he really considered his friend, but he felt like he couldn't talk to her about Gemma. He already knew what she would say, and Harry didn't want to hear it.

"I know I have to think about the child's well-being first, but I- I don't know if I can. I want a child, but I'm not sure I can take care of them. And at the same time, I don't think that that is the right way to do it. Like, taking my sister's baby... It's not- I don't know," Harry stuttered, avoiding the two women's eyes. He wanted them to understand, not have pity of him. But most of all, he wanted someone to tell him what was the right thing to do.

"I don't get it," Jane stated. "You said your sister doesn't want the baby, but why?"

"Being a mother is not for her," Harry replied.

"Did she say why?" the woman insisted. "Barbara and I had our reasons for not having a child, what are Gemma's?" The boy looked at Jane in confusion, not understanding what she meant. "It's like I asked 'why don't you like fish?' and you answered 'because I don't', which is not an answer," she continued to explain. "I believe that there's always a reason for everything I think that it's the same for Gemma."

"Jane is right, sweetheart," Barbara said, after a couple of minutes of silence pondering Jane's words. "Maybe there's something Gemma hasn't told you yet. There must be a more logical reason than the one she told you. If you find that out, then maybe giving such a responsibility to you will make sense. She could've easily had an abortion and not tell you or have decided to give the baby up for adoption, but she came to you first."

"Another strange thing is that she's acting way too rational for someone who's known is pregnant for- what? A few weeks? She has already decided what to do like she thought about it before," Jane added.  
Harry remained quite and thought back to Barbara and Jane's words: maybe they were right. He hadn't considered that there could more behind the "I don't have any maternal instict", he almost took that reason for granted. And yet he knew his sister, she had many flaws, but dumping her responsibilities on others wasn't one of them. Did she lie to him, then? And what could she be hiding behind her behaviour that Harry didn't know?

"So you're saying that if I find out the real reason, she will change her mind?" the boy finally asked.  
"We don't know that, but I think you did everything you could to convince her to keep the baby. If that was the case, then she would've told you the truth right away," Jane reasoned and Harry was immensely grateful that she was a judge and she could see the situation with a much clarity than him.  
"Talk to her again," Barbara encouraged him.

"In the meantime," Jane said, "a little trick could help you decide."

"And what trick would that be?"

"Make two lists, one for the good and the other one for the bad, both for you and the baby, for example. If you really are considering taking it, then writing ideas down might help. "  
Harry sighed. "I'm not sure about anything."

"Then it'll help you make up your mind a bit, which I imagine is all over the place right now," Jane insisted.  
She seemed more determined than anyone to solve the problem.

"The list isn't going to be the way you make a decision," Barbara murmured, "but trying can't hurt either. What do you say?"

So half an hour later, Harry was still at Barbara and Jane's home with a paper sheet in front of him and a pen in his hand. The three of them had moved from the couch the dining table, where Harry had begun to list some positive and negative stuff. In the end, he had three pros and five cons in the "Harry" list and four pros and five cons on the "Baby" list. So it was all against accepting her sister's offer. He couldn't ignore the economic aspect that was definitely not on his favour, the fact that he didn't have so much time off work to stay at home with the baby, being a single parent. There was also his inexperience in taking care of a newborn, even though Barbara had erased that point, claiming that Harry was more than capable of doing it or that he could learn anyway. Everything else would hurt the child and Harry couldn't ignore it, no matter how many times Jane said that he'd find a solution if he really wanted to.

The pros were only a few and not so convincing: Gemma said that Nate and she would help him financially, but for how long? And also, he had seven months to prepare for the baby's arrival, but it felt like it wasn't enough.

The one point that made Harry more unsure than ever was the most important one: his desire to have a child. But he had to consider that he was still young and (maybe) he still had the chance to have a baby in the future.

Harry dropped the pen on the table and sank into the chair. "It seems clear enough what I should do," he said disappointed. "What I have to do."

Barbara looked at him with a sad smile. "You don't have to decide based on what's on this list, Harry."  
"But I can't just pretend that everything is against me."

"Obviously you can't," Jane snapped. "But you don't seem to be happy or relieved. If not taking the baby is your final decision and you're okay with that, then you can tell Gemma right now."

"Mh," Harry mumbled unconvinced.

"Is that the right decision? Are you happy, relieved, no second thoughts?"

Harry looked at Jane with raised eyebrows: he felt attacked and hurt by how the woman was treating him. It was as if that situation was easy for him and he could easily walk away from that. He opened his mouth to answer her and to tell Jane that yes, he was feeling all of that, but then no words came out. He wasn't. He wasn't happy or relieved, he felt helpless, sad and disappointed. Harry had seen Gemma's guilty expression face and he knew she sorry about everything, so how could she ignore her feelings? Weren't those feelings enough to make her understand that she was making the wrong thing?

Harry turned to look at Barbara and found her admiring her wife with a look of pure adoration, one that Harry could only dream of receiving.

Taking his silence as an answer, Jane went on. "We don't always like the decisions we are forced to make and they often turn out to be the wrong ones. But we are talking about a life here, which implies fighting for and not being passive in front of a list that, in my opinion, is not as scary as you think. Take the advice of an old woman who in her 62 years of age had took so many decisions, both in life and as a judge, and some of those still hunt me at night because if I had fought that much more, if I had been stronger and more courageous then I would've taken the right choice and be happy with myself." Jane took a breath and shifted her eyes from Harry's to her wife's sad look. "Or make someone else happy."

Harry didn't ask what she meant by that, although he was curious, because it was none of his business, he understood Jane's point of view. He had to fight before giving up. It wasn't impossible. He himself would give the same advice to anyone who was in his place and he felt like an idiot for treating his sister so coldly.

"I understand," Harry said, standing up. It was time to go home. "Thank you to both of you, really."

The two women smiled. "We're always here," Barbara assured him. "If you need free days to see your family, don't hesitate to ask."

"Or for anything else," Jane added with a grin.

Harry bit his lip and looked from one woman to the other, before approaching Barbara and hugging her. Then he did the same with Jane. They seemed surprised by the gesture as much as Harry was because they knew that he wasn't very fond of physical contact. If he could avoid it, then he did.

"Thank you," he whispered again, before leaving the house.

As he walked back home, Harry realized that there was an extra sprint in his step, a hint of a smile on his face and that his heart pumped faster than ever.

Harry didn't know it yet, but he had already decided what to do. That sprint, that smile, that strength were there because he was making the right decision and being, for once in his life, proud of himself.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo, what do you think? Let me know :)  
> See you next week!!!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Let me know what you think, if there are any mistakes, if you didn't like something, anything. Just be kind :)  
> See you next week!


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